


The Only Person You Can Trust

by WonderPickle



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Again, Happy's internal monologue, I don't really know what this is, i guess this is kinda angst?, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 03:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11027874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderPickle/pseuds/WonderPickle
Summary: The only person Happy was ever able to trust was herself.One-shot.





	The Only Person You Can Trust

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place before season one.

There’s only one person Happy trusted.

And it was herself.

As she’d gotten older she’d learned it was considered a bad thing. It was considered lonely. 

But she considered it smart.

People always let her down. Her father abandoned her at two years old. Foster parents sent her back to the orphanage faster than the amount of weeks it would’ve taken her to feel even somewhat comfortable with them. A little part of her humanity had chipped away each time, until there was nothing left except a scrapped circuitry board inside. That’s how she preferred being. She preferred anything with wires, gears, or metal parts over humans.

She liked machines because she could figure out how they functioned. But people were unpredictable. It made them untrustworthy.

One second someone claimed they were thrilled to welcome her into their house, the next they were shipping her back to where she came.

They were never worth her time anyway. 

Girls were mean and cruel because she wasn’t like them. And she never felt the need to give boys a second of her attention. They never gave her theirs, either.

That was one of the reasons Happy never made friends.

Other kids also came and went from the orphanage. Almost everyone she’d known was chosen by rich folks with money to spend and no one to spend it on. Doctors, lawyers, pretty much someone from every thinkable profession that brought in dough. She was the only one who ever really remained alone. 

Everything else felt like that, too. People continued to change around her. Meanwhile, her likes and dislikes had stayed the same, her views on things didn’t vary, her routine rarely differed.

Though she’d grown accustomed to it, she never seemed to hate change any less as time elapsed.

But she did come to hate being around people.

She enjoyed using tools.

Building things she knew would last brought a bit of satisfaction with each new contraption. The only things that resembled any sort of permanence. 

It was nice to have at least one aspect of her life that didn’t fail her.

Happy had always trusted her tools. They were the only things she’d given her faith to. When she required a distraction, a way to fill a void of time, an activity that  _ actually _ sparked her interest, they were there. They brought the dependability people didn’t. 

People were ignorant. People were unintelligent. People didn’t like different. People were often confused. People were always turning their backs. People were always letting her down. People were constantly forcing her to build up her shield.

People were untrustworthy.

Hell, people just  _ sucked _ .

During her childhood, she hated being alone. But Happy had grown to dislike any situation that didn’t include solitude. As an adult, she detested having to be around others. Fortunately, it wasn’t often that she was.

Recently, she’d even started paying people to show up places for her. Although she didn’t enjoy making conversation with them, even if she did manage the bare minimum. 

She and the rest of the world didn’t get along. 

That was fine with her. She wanted no part of it.

Sometimes being cooped up in her small apartment drove her slightly crazy. But in all honesty, she didn’t hate the idea of staying there with her machines and not having to avoid small talk with the annoying clerk at the grocery store, or keep her head down when she walked down the street, or the occasional conversation with her landlord because he was home and she couldn’t just slip the rent money under the door. 

Because people just weren't worth it.


End file.
